


A Thoughtless Power Out

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [39]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompts, Mystrade Prompt Challenge, Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts, Suit Porn, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 22:19:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19732897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: Greg and Mycroft's plan for dinner after a two-week absence get interrupted by a murder, but in the end they both find themselves well-suited to get together afterward.





	A Thoughtless Power Out

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts | Silver

Mycroft was glad no one else was in the sedan to see his crestfallen face when Greg had called him about the change in plans while they were both in route to meet for dinner. He from the airport, Greg from home.

“But why tonight?” Mycroft had whined. There was no other word for it. He sounded very much like his baby brother and he knew it, he did not care. He had really looked forward to this evening. “We haven’t seen each other for two weeks!”

“I’m sorry, it was rude of the murderer to have not consulted our calendars first. They’re such inconvenient bastards that way. You know but you know….” Greg sighed.

“Yes, I do know… “ he had sighed as well his own disappointment evident.

Lestrade was up for Chief Inspector. Any case he took could be the one that gave him that extra personal point in the back end politics of things to get the promotion. So, when Lestrade's chief superintendent asked for him personally to head the investigation into the murder of a daughter for a high-profile member of Parliament, Mycroft knew the detective inspector was not going to say no. Not even tonight.

“I will try to make it as quick as I can, love. If I think I can wrap this up before 19.30, I’ll call you. Maybe we can meet for dessert. Wait for me?”

“Forever and…” Mycroft promised as he rang out. 

Mycroft looked at the suit he wore. It was a new black, waist-coated suit that he wore with a crisp white oxford. As always, his pocket watch was looped through his waistcoat. He smoothed the rich crimson silk tie with matching pocket square that were a Christmas gift from Greg two years ago. They coordinated well with the scarlet cufflinks that looked like blood drops. It was a look that he knew Greg loved on him. 

The cufflinks were a gag gift Sherlock had made and sent to him a couple of weeks after their return from Serbia. It was a reminder of his brother’s parting shot when he left his office that afternoon. He knew Sherlock had never expected him to wear them for the sentiment alone and he likely would not have had he not received Greg’s gift. It coordinated so well with them and one day Mycroft was in a rare mood to be silly.

It had the expected dropped jaw effect from Sherlock who was pleased as punch when he saw the cufflinks. Mycroft had not expected the effect his outfit would have on Gregory who dubbed it is his Power Out look.

“You…look so powerful, so...formidable in that suit. In it you have the power to make me do _anything_ if it will get you out of it.” Greg admitted that evening when he saw him in it. 

Mycroft's hand twitched in the memory of the feel of Greg’s silver hair between his fingers. His hand had slid through the gleaming strands in the moonlight as his husband slept after the man had done…several things…that got Mycroft out of the suit.

He was about to tell his driver to take him home, but then thought of something better do since he had the new suit on and pulled out his mobile instead.

* * *

The chief superintendent had made it clear he wanted Lestrade on the case when they initially thought it was a member of Parliament’s daughter. The deceased’s face had look enough like the young woman, well, what they could see of the face that was. The initial confusion was understandable, until the young woman herself was finally awakened by her dorm mate at uni and responded to the frantic calls on her mobile. She had yet to realize that her identification had been stolen, only to learn that it was the discovered at the scene of a homicide. Greg himself did not care whether the victim was privileged or not. A murdered girl was a murdered girl and he would have pursued vigorously regardless. Still, he was beyond grateful when twenty minutes ago her killer walked into a police precinct and tearfully confessed to the murder.

Greg was also grateful that Donovan was willing to assist him when he had called, despite her own equally overworked schedule. Now that the preliminaries of the scene were done, she could finish the details from there. It left him free to return to his original plans.

“Did you do this on purpose?” Sally asked as she walked with Greg down the stairs from the crime scene.

“Did what?” he looked to her quizzically as he placed the Meisterstück Platinum-Coated Classique Ballpoint Pen, a birthday gift from his husband, back in his pocket along with his pearl grey Moleskine note pad.

“This…” She waved a hand in indication of him from head to toe. “You look good. I mean you always look good, except when you’re tired and grouchy and you know… But tonight? Boss, you look _good_!”

He blushed slightly as he looked down on the mid-grey, Burberry Chelsea Heritage Trench Coat he wore over his charcoal suit, off-set by a dove grey shirt so pale it almost looked white against the woven silver tie and grey silk pocket square. His belt with the engraved silver buckle and his double strapped monk shoes were both in black. A silver handcuffs tie pin, and his brushed silver cufflinks that looked like an open umbrella once its toggle, shaped like a shaft and handle, was pushed through the French cuffs of his shirt, completed the near monochrome look. 

The tie pin was a joke gift from a certain consulting detective who had a penchant for pilfering Greg’s real handcuffs. The cufflinks were a wedding gift from Mycroft. The rare moment of whimsy and sentiment from the Iceman was gift enough, for him the cufflinks was also a subtle reminder that Greg will always have Mycroft's care and protection. The suit itself was not one he would normally wear to work. He gave no other thought to it than it was one of the suits he knew Mycroft liked him in it when Mycroft wanted to show him off. After a two-week absence he wanted to give his husband an extra treat.

“Thanks Sal. Remember, I was on my way to dinner when the call came,” Greg gave by way of explanation as they left the building. He could not stop his small smile at the ever-familiar black sedan that waited at the curb.

“Hoping to recoup some of your evening?” Sally teased when his small smile became wider as an equally familiar figure stepped out and held the door.

Greg does not know that Donovan will give him so much grief tomorrow on how he paused for a moment, so enthralled at the sight of Mycroft that he simply ceased all conversation, and walked away from her without even a wave of a hand in goodbye. But that was tomorrow.

Tonight, Gregory’s attention was focused solely on the the ever elegant man in a new suit that held the car door open in invitation.

* * *

Mycroft was already on his way to the crime scene when he received the information through his own channels that it was a mistaken identity. Still he knew his husband. Greg was not just going to walk out and leave because the victim was no longer the daughter of someone important. She was someone’s daughter and Gregory would investigate this murder with the same respect and intensity regardless.

His sedan had pulled to the building just as he learned of the confession. Minutes later he received Gregory’s call that he was leaving the case with Donovan to finish and they could still meet for a late dinner. Mycroft easily agreed not telling the detective inspector that he already had Anthea arrange to have Gregory’s car picked up and driven home. He had wanted to surprise Gregory.

Mycroft was the one surprised instead.

The Iceman saw as Gregory and Donovan exited the building. Mycroft nearly flatlined when Gregory froze at the sight of him as he stepped out of the sedan. Gregory had stopped under a street light and the universe was indeed gracious as it shined a light on the near monochrome outfit that was perfect on him. It was all shades of platinum and silver and grey that matched his hair. Mycroft knew his husband, the look was not done intentionally, but it was perfectly done nonetheless; a platinum Vulpes Vulpes in human form, he was exquisite.

As Mycroft held the door open in wordless invitation he knew he had to be looking at Greg with the same hunger in which Greg looked at him as he simply walked away from Sally Donovan without a word. 

“Power Out.” Greg’s voice was a tremulous whisper of desire. One hand slid down Mycroft's tie as the other was already loosening a button to his waistcoat.

“If my look is Power Out then _this_ …” Mycroft touched the lapel of Greg’s coat, because touching anywhere else on Greg right then was...dangerous...to the upkeep of his decorum, “…is Thoughtless.”

“Thoughtless..?” Greg’s innocent smiled belied the fact that he had already gleaned the gist of it.

“Yes,” Mycroft pulled him close and both man’s breath caught for a moment at the evidence of what their respective suits were doing to each other. “I have no thought other than getting you out of it after dinner.”

Donovan watched as Greg arched a knowing brow at his husband before he climbed into the sedan. As Mycroft climbed in behind Greg, he smiled a smile that told Sally they were not going to make it to dinner that night; nor to work tomorrow.

She was right.


End file.
